137th Hunger Games
by ShadowsOfMyBurningHeart
Summary: How can you tell the difference between the blessed and the cursed? The angels and the devils? The true and the biased? The loved and the hated? SYOT Full but please still read
1. Chapter 1

He sparkled but the jewels were as fake as him. Everything was fake though. What was real? Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing was real and anyone pretending any differently were just deluding their self. But that was what people did best. Everyone hid behind fake smiles. Everyone hid behind delusions of grandeur. That was the way the world worked.

No one realised all the other smiles were fake, but so was everything really. What wasn't?

No one knew how to deal with the _weakness_ and so they adapted. Some spat up vile into perfect, sparkling toilets, some broke open razors until cherry red (because even then it had to be perfect) stained white.

Perhaps that was the only way they could be real. When their veins were bared open and blood was pouring and you could hear people's screaming but it was all so faint.

So you returned the favour, lucky, lucky, lucky.

A lucky 23 per year would never have to pretend. Never have to smile and laugh and tell concerned siblingsparentsteachersfriendslovers (because they all bled into each other didn't they? All the same concerned face,) that they were okay.

Because they weren't okay, but they were free. (And what did okay really ever mean?)

But one ( _the unlucky among all)_ was forced. They could pretend they were okay but after the games (their one chance) no one was ever okay.

They could pretend, and blend in. Afterall, everyone was messed up.

But none so messed up as the victors.

 _Such a hollow victory. All they won was life._

 **Thanks for reading! If you have any ideas on how to improve, I'd love to get a PM or a review. I've lurked for a while but this is my first real attempt at writing, so any criticism would be amazing.**

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	2. Chapter 2

The time was set, the pieces fell in.

They all clung to hope, a lifeline, to win.

Their eyes were straight forward, their fingers were clenched.

How literally clean, but metaphorically drenched.

No one was safe, and hope was a lie.

When that gong rings, you better learn to fly.


	3. District One

**Velvetina Silverette**

 **17 years old**

~There's a proverbial difference between being arrogant and confident~

 _I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I know I'll be living in vain  
And I don't wanna fit wherever  
I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home  
I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home  
I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home_

* * *

I curl my toes and wince in pain before ripping off the strip of wax and letting out a hiss.

I'm not new to the feeling and it's not really too bad but where's the fun in admitting that? The number one rule of being a career is to not acknowledge when you're bleeding out but make sure a tiny nick is enough to send you into agony.

Most of the kids where I train have got that down to pat. I've seen the same kid that didn't cry when he broke his leg after a load of weights dropping on him, scream that he was dying because of a slightly misaimed sword.

It barely caught his fingernail.

Bella comes in, hearing my exclamations of pain. Her face twists into mock sympathy but a small glare from me is all it take to send her into peals of laughter. "You always make the dumbest faces when you do that Vell," she says between laughs and I glare at her.

You'd be forgiven for thinking she was about nine with the amount of maturity she shows, but at thirteen, she's actually almost ready for the Test.

As far as I know, all career districts have the test, but seeing as we pretty much get taught nothing in school, they might not. It's not a hard test, but when you're fourteen years old, you get evaluated. From around 60 starters, 30 make it through. It used to be twenty, but pretty much everyone in the District is an idiot and we have at least four deaths per age group.

There was also that year where fifteen of the twenty tributes got sick and died from a highly contagious disease and we couldn't submit anyone, because the five that didn't die had to drop out of training for almost a year and once you lose that long it's almost impossible to make up.

I'm pretty faithful in Bella's ability to make it through the Test, although I almost wish she couldn't.

My feelings about the games are complicated. We desperately need the money that would come from winning, and I know with the right luck I'm good enough to win, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am with killing kids.

I flip my middle finger at Bella, too busy to really concentrate and still laughing she manages to get out, "When you're ready, mom wants you down for early lunch,"

My legs are pretty much done, so I rinse them off in water and shave off the parts I missed because of my annoying sibling.

I look in my wardrobe to find the right outfit. Most of the girls from One, without being stereotypical, wear flows pink dresses. Whilst I don't mind wearing stuff like that, my almost too slender build means that those sort of dresses just don't fit right, especially since most girls my age fit under the curvy muscular category.

When I was a kid this was a disadvantage, and until I found throwing knives, no one thought I would make it through, anywhere near to being chosen. Through knives, though I worked up to spears and now, whilst they're very hidden, I do have light muscles, though you can only really see if I flex.

In the end I pick out a blouse, paired with my favourite black skirt. My special-occasion flats complete the look and I go downstairs.

"You look so gorgeous 'Tina," my mom says smiling. There are tears in her eyes but we both know I have to go, "I'm gonna miss you so much."

We hug, but then Bella and Cleo join us, making our arms crowded. We laugh and go to sit down for lunch.

Lunch was simple French onion soup, but the bread is warm and soft. It smells like home. I never thought of myself as emotional, but almost crying over bread is a sign that maybe I am.

As usual, Bella talked too much, and Cleo too little, but unlike usual, no one told Bella to shut up, making her pout for a total of five seconds. Instead we listen to her chatter and try not to think about how this could be my last time sitting down.

I'm gonna miss this.

* * *

 **Lucretius Braxton**

 **18 years old**

~Dancing is the hidden language of the soul of the body~

 _Hold me closer tiny dancer  
Count the headlights on the highway  
Lay me down in sheets of linen  
You had a busy day today_

"What were you doing?" My father glares at my sweaty face and looks at me suspiciously. "Why didn't you leave me a note?"

I rolled my eyes, making sure he couldn't see me before answering. "I was training, I must have forgotten." Not a complete lie, but not the truth either.

He narrows his eyes, clearly not believing me but I stand firmly, clenching my hands. My dad isn't abusive, but he's swung at me before. Always bare fisted, and never hard, but enough to make me wary. It's like that for most guys in One. The other Districts can belittle us for being 'girly' sometimes, just because our trade is jewellery, but my st of us are as hardcore as anyone from Two.

"Who were you with?"

I think fast. He won't like the real answer. "Deymond," I look him straighton the eye as to be convincing but not so straight that it'll look suspicious. That time it was a complete lie.

Dad doesn't believe I should have a girlfriend. Last time I mentioned that I was dating someone he completely flipped. In his opinion I should wait until I've won the games, but when I told Lily that, I believe her exact reaction was to laugh and kiss me. And when Lily kisses you, nothing else matters.

Lily, for lack of better words is beautiful. But really, it's a complete lack. When I watch her dance, she barely seems to be a girl. She's like.. I can't explain. You have to see Lily before you truly understand.

When we met, the first thing she did was laugh at my name, and then correct my knife aim. I responded by laughing at hers right back and showing her how to hold a spear correctly. When we met each other, a good eight years ago, she was useless with a spear, now it's her second strongest weapon. It's the same with knives for me.

But one thing neither of us had was balance. I remember how Lily would always look such a graceful ten year old that often our trainer would hold her up in front of the class to show her straight back and neck.

And then, as she would walk back to stand with the rest of us, she would trip flat on her feet.

One day, our trainer- Anitha (no one knows her first name) took us aside and began to give us private training. Not in weaponry though, in ballet. I wish I could have said we were naturals from the start, but we weren't.

But we both instantly fell in love with it. I pretended to hate it, but I managed to keep that up for all of five minutes. I don't know why Anitha took it upon herself to help us, but we would spend at least two hours a day, after training had finished, going over routines, progressing slowly but surely.

And two years ago, five years after we began training, we both saved up our money, from parents, odd jobs and even pennies we found on the street and Anitha sent an order to the Capitol to buy us pointe shoes. It's hard work, and a lot of money mantaining them, but I love dancing.

"Oi fairy boy, look at me when I'm speaking to you," he clicks hid fingers in front of my face, breaking me out of my thoughts and I inaudibly sigh. Here lies a prime example of why I can't tell my family.

"Are you going to see your mother?" dad asks, his face screwing up as if he's said a bad word.

"Nah, I saw her yesterday, and I'll see her when she says goodbye, I'm gonna go take a shower,"

By this, I mean I'll practice some basic moves, although I don't have my shoes with me due to Anitha keeping them safe and easy working much better when Lily is with me. Going through the positions slowly and methodically helps clear my head and with the buzz of excitement I get from the idea of volunteering, I need that.

Lily didn't want me to volunteer. For years it was all we could talk about, but as we realised we the same age and we couldn't both go, the excitement began to wear off, replaced by only talking about dancing.

It was decided by the two of us that I would volunteer. Lily was in the running but declined. She would have been just as capable of going as me and it was never due to sexism, but I was pretty much the best guy by a long shot and I've sparred with Velvetina, and so has Lily and we're all pretty even.

"You changed yet? It's time to go if you want a good place!"

In his own weird way, dad can be caring sometimes.

I yell back an affirmative response and give myself one last look over. I look fine.

"See you in half an hour," I say to him, and he nods at me awkwardly. We aren't people to hug things out with each other. The only person I'd ever hug nowadays is Lily.

I touch the wooden door frame, almost for luck and I walk out of our house.

I'm ready.

* * *

 **Lolite Beurnet**

 **Winner of the 111th**

 **45 years old**

* * *

I stand on stage looking down at all the careers in training. You can tell which ones thrive in the academy and which ones hate it from a glance. Next to me stands Glint. He won the 119th but it aged him in a way it didn't age me. He's constantly muttering to himself and shows beginnin signs of a paranoid personality disorder. I mentored him as a cocky 17 year old and despite him being almost insufferable, I miss that.

I've noticed the signs of a drug addiction starting, but I can't say anything. It's not my place as a previous mentor or an acquaintance and as long as he doesn't become violent towards our new tributes, I'm powerless to stop.

"Welcome everyone to the 137th annual Hunger Games. I trust everybody is ready for the reapings to begin, but this year we have a surprise!" This startles me. From the start, every reaping has been the same, except of course the quarter quells.

"This year we have a video to explain the history of Panem and why the games are necessary for us! I hope you enjoy and then we will start the reaping!"

I think they did this before the second rebellion, but they stopped using the video method after and it was never reinstated.

Everyone shifts uncomfortably as it starts, and even Glint nearly smiles. Even if they continue the film idea, they will have to replace this one. It's poorly acted and their attempts for special effects are almost embarrassing. Finally the train wreck is over and the escort- I'm not sure of her name, she's different from the one last year, steps back up.

"Wasn't that enjoyable!" Her voice leaves no room for that to have been a question. "Now, on with the reapings!"

"Topaz Flintwood!"

No sooner are the words out, does the chosen girl, Velvetina Silverette volunteer. She looks like the perfect career, although her body is more reminiscent of the fisher girls from Four than perhaps many of the girls in this District fit.

"Congratulations to our volunteer! And now for the boys, Rarity Marble!"

Many of the boys from One, moved in a heavy way, but for lack of a better word, Lucretius Braxton, for lack of a better word, glided. It was almost pretty to watch, even if it was just walking through a crowd. If he won, he could almost certainly take up dancing as his talent.

The nodded and each other in a way that suggested that they knew each other as they shook hands. Possible allies.

"Congratulations to our stunning tributes!" Our escort trilled. This was my and Glint's cue to start leading them off the stage so I began to walk down the steps. Glint took a few beats longer but soon we were both leading them to the tall, stunningly white building, where two peacekeeper's led them to their separate rooms.

"Ready to get on the train?" I asked Glint and he nodded jerkily. Let the games begin.

* * *

 **Velvetina Silverette**

"We forgot to give this to you earlier," said Bella, "It isn't much, I tried saving up, but I kept spending my money on sweets,"

I laughed despite myself

"So," continued Cleo, "because of HER, we only had half the amount of money we wanted. At least I can save up!" Cleo was shy most of the time, but our her with Bella and they can argue like no tomorrow,"

"So, here," they say in creepy unison. I hate it when they do that. They're not twins, but Cleo is tall enough despite being almost two years younger, that people mistake them for it all the time.

They hand me a bracelet. I've seen enough jewellary to know it's not real gold, and so have they, but none of us care.

It's from family. And gold is tacky anyway

* * *

 **Lucretius Braxton**

"Brill.." It's a nickname I never use for her. We're sitting together and enjoying our last few moments. "If, if I win,"

"Yeah? You should. You better,"

I give her a half smile.

"Can we get married? Not like a huge Victor wedding, a small little thing. Isajt you to be the one to live with me,"

Lily looks at me. We've never discussed what would happen, but I think we always knew if one of us won, we'd be living together.

"Lucretius Braxton," she looks at me straight faced. "I would be honoured," She suddenly slaps her palm to her face. "Almost forgot," she opens her bag and hands me a small book, "Open this on the train,"

I look into her eyes and she smiles, I begin to lean in and our lips lightly graze when I hear a coughing sound.

"Time's up, get out."

She squeezes my hand one last time and with a swish of her dark hair, she turns and walks out, the peacekeeper leading her.

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 **How many siblings does Velvetina have? What are their names (each name worth 5 points)**

 **Why did Lucretius and Lily start ballet? (10 points)**

 **Scoreboard:**

 **(When the games start, I'll put a list up)**

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	4. District Two

**IMPORTANT NOTICE:**

 **This has been changed from the 37th to the 137th due to plot points and arena ideas I want to explore, not working brilliantly as such an early games. I've minorly edited earlier chapters so that this can work. Thank you and sorry for the inconvenience.**

* * *

 **Aryn Blant**

 **18 years old**

~Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work~

 _Standing in the hall of fame_

 _And the world's gonna know your name_

 _'Cause you burn with the brightest flame_

 _And the world's gonna know your name_

 _And you'll be on the walls of the hall of fame_

I open my tattered music book, hold my flute to my lips and by complete instinct, find the correct position. The song is not one of my favourites but it was easy and had no real complicated notes. The perfect starter.

I am barely three bars in when I hear the sound of my father walking up the stairs. He's wearing his heavy boots in the house again. Mom hates it when he does that; it's one of the first reasons that their petty arguments start all the time.

The second being that Dad sees no point in me learning to play that 'ridiculous instrument', and wants me to stop learning.

I continue the trill absentmindedly, but then Dad starts pounding on my door. I lower the flute away from my lips, disrupting the clean notes.

"Come in!" I yell. The doors and walls are thick, and you have to make a large noise in my family to be heard.

Sometimes though, Dad takes it too far.

"Stop making so much noise! I'm trying to eat breakfast, and your goddamned plinky plonking is annoying the crap out of me!" His ranting is predictable, seeing as he's said it all before. Then, he stops mid rant and turns his head to glare at me, "Why aren't you training? With all the distractions you have, you need all the extra fucking time you can get!"

I stop myself from rolling my eyes. He seems to be under the impression that two hours of music a day - compared to 8 hours of training - is going to ruin my hard work with weapons, or something ridiculous like that.

His logic isn't great when he's sober and even worse when he's drunk, which seems to be every other day. Though he's rarely ever worse than a bit of slurring, he definitely drinks an excessive amount more than he should.

I can't really judge though. Music won't stunt my growth, but smoking, both the usual cigarettes and the occasional joint of weed, could. I don't do either often though, because getting ahold of them requires me to be social and I rarely have the time or the energy.

"It's an hours walk and no buses are running today; it's not worth it to only be able to stay an hour," I try to reason, but he doesn't look even mildly placated.

"Well you could be training here. Last I checked, damn you have a punching bag. It cost a lot of money, Aryn, and it's more than frustrating that you never use it."

I sigh, the flute now hanging limply from my grip, "When could I use it, Dad?"

"If you cut down on-,"

Before he can finish, I cut him off, with a more forceful 'No!' than intended. I know exactly what he was going to say.

Everything goes back to music. Mum decided when I was five, that incase I turned out to hate training, I'd need something to fall back on, and she chose music. Since then, I've learnt the flute and by extension, the piccolo, and reading sheet music is almost easier than reading English to me - especially since I left school at 13 to train full time.

It isn't really meant to be allowed until 15, but the person that runs the school in Two doesn't really care. Some leave even earlier at the age of 11 or 12. You don't need school to swing a sword, or when you've passed that age, to cut stone.

Maybe I would have liked to stay in school, but I don't remember, and now I can't wait for the Games. I love my flute, and if I win it'll definitely be my talent, but I could never live off of making music alone. There's also no denying that the pure glamour of the games never fails to make a pleasant shiver go down my spine.

That same shiver was part of the reason I was picked over Romy. Everyone thought she would be picked over me, but she didn't have the stomach and it would be a ridiculous idea to send someone whose heart wasn't fully in the idea of going in and fighting to survive.

I'm just as good, if not better than her, but there's a stigma against spears. No one in Two has ever won from spears being their main weapon. It's always been swords.

With only four victors so far, it doesn't really mean anything, but Two is nothing but traditional and swords will probably always be the main weapon. However, something about spears is just much more beautiful to me.

"You don't have to be contrary, girl. If you'd focused more time on your training you could have probably had two main weapons instead of only one. You know it's the truth!"

"I still train more than everyone else," my voice comes off like a whiny girl and I internally wince.

"I don't care about anyone else. None of the other girls are going into the games and, being stronger, the guys already have an advantage. Listen to me and go throw some punches. Do you want to be able to fight if someone disarms you?"

He takes a deep breath. The calmness and rationality of his words struck a chord in my mind. If he had yelled, then I would have been able to dismiss them as his usual ranting. Instead, I carefully put my flute back in it's case, letting him lead the way out of my room.

"Good kid," he claps me on the back and we nod at each other. Compared to some of our interactions, it was equal to two overly emotional twelve year olds embracing and crying at a sleepover.

I walk out into our garden. The punching bag is a good one, academy grade. With a sigh, I pull out my kit and wrap my hands before punching the bag, getting a good swing going. I practice for another half an hour before dad comes out.

"They could be stronger," he remarks, but no outright criticism is practically a compliment. "You need a shower by the way; you stink. Your mother used up the hot water but I assume that won't be an issue."

I nod. I don't like cold water, but at least it'll refresh me, and it's not I'll need to wash my hair or anything.

I duck under the stream of water and gasp. I was expecting cold but this was icy. Gritting my teeth, I quickly lather myself in scentless soap and wash as quickly as possible. Finally, I get out and quickly grabbed a towel before half running into my bedroom. Deciding to not go for a dressy look, I rummage around for my best combat trousers, pairing it with a white t shirt and an army style jacket. I redo my messy ponytail and give myself a quick spray of deodorant. I redo my hair to neaten it up and after a quick once over in the mirror, I turn away.

I look at my flute, almost sad that it can't be my token, before I get an idea. My piccolo is tiny at barely 11 inches long, so I quickly put it into one of the many pockets of my trousers. It reminds me of my values, and if needed, I can smash someone over the head with it.

What's not to love?

"Bye guys!" I yell, making sure they'll hear me through the wall. They both respond with similar farewells, and I take a second to make sure the laces of my trainers weren't loose before I walk out the door.

 **Dagger Bricker**

 **18 years old**

~They think I'm weak. I'm going to prove them wrong~

 _Be my friend, hold me_

 _Wrap me up, unfold me_

 _I am small, I'm needy_

 _Warm me up and breathe me_

"Dagger! I know you can hear me, Dagger. Answer me! Put down your sword and look at me! "

I stand in my garden, sword clenched tightly in my hands, with my back turned towards him, ignoring his yells and standing stock still. I can acknowledge him, and I get that it would be polite to answer, but I can't.

Well, there's nothing wrong with my mouth, or vocal cords, but responding would break my concentration. It shouldn't be this important to me, I get that, but my breathing has already became ragged and the hard metal of the sword handle in my hand and the peeling red of the fence are all that's keeping me from starting to panic.

"Dagger! Turn around and face me! I'm trying to talk to you you disrespectful little-"

He doesn't continue, because as he says those words, he puncuates them with a hand on my shoulder. It finally gives him what he wants; me answering.

The second his hand grazes my shoulder, I drop the sword and it makes a clatter, I shove my hands over my ears and close my eyes, trying to block out the world.

Distantly, I hear him let out a string of expletives before the noise of our old, wooden door - white in colour - slams. I lower myself to the ground and make my body as small as possible whilst I wait for the twisting weight in my stomach to subside. I shakily stand up, and pick my sword up again.

I wasn't doing anything with it, but my family invited a load of relatives and close friends around to celebrate the 'day I volunteer'. Inside it was too loud, and people I barely knew, except from family gatherings such as weddings or funerals, were trying to speak to me and congratulate me. I knew that if I was rude, Dad or Mum would yell at me.

Going outside didn't stop that, but the cool air and the relative solitude made up for that. I don't know why I was holding my sword though: perhaps in my panicking mind I thought I would be able to escape to the training centre.

"Dagger!"

I start at the sound of my name, but it isn't my father, back to tell me off again.

"Why did you run off like that?" She asks, before continuing without an answer, "Don't tell me, too many people and you got anxious?"

I nod my head, not trusting my voice not to go shaky. "You realise, it's going to be worse in the Capitol right? And unless you decide not to go with them, you won't be able to get away from the other Careers during the games,"

I nod my head again, but she knows that I understand this. We've discussed this before.

She smiles at me, all perfect white teeth and shiny red lips. On anyone else, it would look fake, but on Maysenne, I don't think anything could be less than genuine.

It's one of the reasons she's my best friend. She wouldn't lie to me or dodge around the truth. I'm not good with fakers and I need to know someone will be 100 - or at least 95% honest with me, before I can be friends with them.

"I didn't realise you were here," I manage to get out. I might have been able to stay in the house if she'd been by my side.

"I only just got here, to say goodbye before you volunteer. I guessed that you'd probably be overwhelmed if too many people come to see you after you've volunteered."

I nod, "Makes sense, thank you."

"Why is your dad mad at you this time?" She asks, "He came back in, bright red, and almost chugged down an entire bottle of beer one gulp; he only does that when he's proper fuming."

"I like the phrase fuming. It makes me think of a bomb going off inside someone," I pause to imagine dad's head exploding.

"Lovely image aside, what did you do?"

I swallow, "I was trying to control my breathing and he was yelling at me, so I ignored him until he touched my shoulder and I needed to try and block it all out. He was really creative with his curse words this time!"

Her lips twitch, "You shouldn't provoke your dad like that."

"I didn't provoke him!" My words come out too defensive, and she just nods.

"Maybe not on purpose but still… I have to go now Dagger, to get ready. I'll come and say goodbye quickly but I wanted to say it whilst you haven't been talked out."

"See you then,"

I waggle my fingers at her in a wave, and she responds likewise. I pick up my sword, and go round, through to the second exit, where I'll be able to walk in and hopefully not be disturbed. I put my sword in its sheath before opening my bedroom door.

When I was a child, my walls were blue, but when I became a teenager, I was allowed to choose the colour I painted it. I chose a calming creamy colour. Dad wanted to object, but he'd already said I could. My room had smelt like paint for weeks after I'd finished, but I bought a nose plug and tried to deal with it as best I could.

I try to keep it as tidy as possible, but I don't have a laundry basket and in my house we only do that once a week, so I have to leave my unclean clothes piled up in a corner. Other than that, my room is almost perfect, although if it was my choice I'd have white bed sheets too, instead of red.

I open my closet, and take out a blue suit. I open my small box and pick out a matching tie, favouring it over the bow tie I also own. A normal tie looks more professional and volunteering is a very serious matter.

As a kid, I was sort of a wimp, so you could imagine my parents surprise when I loved every second of training. It was a further surprise when I turned out to be good at it too.

Years ago, my Dad won. From then on, he never let anyone forget about it. He treated me being chosen as volunteer as more of a personal victory than anything, although he was unhappy when he found this meant he would have to back down on his mentoring duties for a year. Instead, we have Clade Hollsworth, alongside Nyxxa Murdoch, who, according to dad, couldn't mentor a tribute to escape a wet paper bag.

I've met them both, at a Victors and family party I was forced to go to and they seemed nice enough, but I'm not a good judge of character a lot of the time.

I guess, due to Dad having won, we would be considered well off - having a house in Victor's Village and all that - but before Mom and Dad married, Dad treated the place badly. Even after almost 25 years of them living together, there's still a faint smell of alcohol and something else. Dad always says I'm imagining it, in a tone I presume means to drop the topic, and when I ask Mom if she can smell it, she refuses to answer.

I walk down the stairs, trying to avoid the crowd, when Dad catches sight of me. "Here he is! Future Victor, a chip off the old block!" He announces to everyone. He's drunk, or at least tipsy, so I try not to hold it against him that he's touching my shoulder (even though he knows I hate it). Instead, I just wiggle out and escape, before waving and beginning my walk.

 **Clade Hollsworth**

 **Winner of the 115th**

 **41 years old**

"I hear Lawson Bricker's kid is volunteering this year, he's apparently a total oddball but amazing with a sword." Nyxxa and me stand on stage, side to side, making light conversation whilst we wait for Leonie, our escort to appear.

I nod, "Yeah, Lawson was set to mentor, but when his kid was decided they chose me instead."

"I bet he loved that,"

I scoff, Lawson Bricker, Victor of the 107th Hunger Games was a brave man, but humble or even fair, he was not. In fact: he could be an arrogant tosser and it was well know he didn't like neither me nor Nyxxa.

"The girl is no one special though, only the second choice. Their first didn't want to fight so they chose her instead."

Our conversation is cut short when Leonie walks on stage. Her heels are too high, but nothing other than that seems to be off about her outfit. Once she gets into the Capitol, her outfits become brighter, but Leonie is a smart woman and has at least some sense of subtlety.

"We have a surprise video for you guys to watch, and then we can begin."

"A video?" Nyxxa whispers in my ear, "Should we be worried?"

"It can't be that bad," I shake my head and she nods.

I was wrong. So wrong.

"Thank you everyone for your patience! Now let's begin the reaping!"

"Zahra Broughton!"

A dark girl, maybe 15 begins to make her way to the stage, standing there awkwardly. Everyone knows she won't be there long.

"Any volunteers?"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

A blonde, young looking girl steps on stage. For the life of me, I can't think of her name.

"What's your name?"

It doesn't matter though.

"Aryn Blant,"

When she speaks, her foot taps, perhaps unconsciously. I'll have to make sure she gets rid of that habit.

"Lovely! And now for the male. Haidar Coffey!"

The same old spiel of someone walking onto the stage, and Leonie asking again repeats itself. This time I watch for his son, mildly interested.

"I volunteer!"

I've met Dagger once or twice. He's always been perfectly polite, if a bit twitchy.

"Wonderful! Now you if two can shake hands, we'll be off to say goodbye. Happy Hunger Games everyone!"

"Finally," remarks Nyxxa, "After that video I thought this nightmare of a reaping would never end!"

"Do you know what the worst thing about it was?" I ask and she shakes her head, "The Capitol actually paid someone to produce that."

 **Aryn Blant**

"Don't expect either of us to cry," Dad says, "I would probably be more upset if you didn't volunteer. If you die, you die with honour, which is better than all the other cowards."

I nod my head, "I would never expect you to cry," I said, making sure my voice has no hint of the sarcasm I so desperately want to use in it. Mom is suspiciously silent and I hope if she does decide to cry, she'll wait till I've gotten on the train.

"Don't embarrass Two," Dad says and I nod again.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I reply, this time not quite able to keep the sarcasm out. He pats me on the head like I'm a 5 year old, and me Mom gives me a quick hug before they turn and leave.

"You done?" A peacekeeper asks me, walking in

"Yep," I pop the P.

"Come on then," he says and I follow.

 **Dagger Bricker**

All of my close family is crowded into the room and it feels small and crushing. I wish they could have decided to visit one or two at a time, but I don't say this in case Mom Dad tell me I'm being rude.

Sasha is hugging me and crying, whilst I try and resist the urge to make her move. On the contrary Ryder is just standing there, just trying to act cool and uncaring.

For a ten year old, Ryker can be a dick, but he's softer then he seems, although from all the training he does, he's oddly muscled already. He tries not to show it but I think he's quite sensitive, although I'm sure he'd probably bear any of us siblings up for daring to suggest it.

Ashton just looks more excited than anything. He's already planned out his victory speech, and if he wasn't stopped, I'm pretty sure he'd have volunteered the year he turned twelve. He's agreed to wait until he turns seventeen, but even if he isn't picked, he'll still volunteer. It's almost funny how excited he is, but Dad just plays it up.

"You remembered your token right?" Dad asks, and I hold up the gemstone. It looks almost feminine, especially for Dad, but his mother gave it to him and it was his token do I'm proud to use it.

He claps me on the back, and I manage not to flinch for once, before the peacekeeper pops his head around the corner and gestures for them to leave.

It's strange: Without them, the room suddenly seemed too big.

 **Hey! I'm really sorry I took so long! This chapter is possibly the longest thing I've ever written lol. I really appreciate any support you can give me, so if you have time, please consider dropping a review. Thank you for the amazing feedback I got for the last chapter.**

 **Except you Ella.**

 **(If you didn't know, she posted the script of the Bee Movie and I can't delete it. Thank you so much for that,)**

 **What do you think of these two? Who do you prefer? Do you predict a career win this year?**

 **If you have time, please submit a tribute. At the moment, I need both of District Three, and won't be able to continue without them.**


	5. District Three

**Nya Von Neumann**

 **17 years old**

~My life lies in the products of my imagination, which will live on regardless~

 _We don't have to get loud to lose it  
All we need is just me and you  
We don't have to scream loud to prove it  
We could keep it all on acoustic  
Ooh hm, keep it all on acoustic  
Ooh hm, keep it all on_

* * *

"Lux, stop it!" I screech, as he continues his almost perfect impression of our teacher, but I can't stop the laughter in my voice. To his credit, he attempts to look sheepish, but the turned up corners of his mouth make that impossible.

"Seriously," I whine, "the toy's already faulty, do you want make it worse?"

Lux, my best friend Dayta and I are crowded round the wooden table in the classroom, trying to ignore the sweltering heat. Air conditioning is a lot of money, so they only keep it on during school hours.

Our families all make enough money to have food on the table, but we all pretty much scrape by, so when the offer to try and fix up some malfunctions before we send the toy off to the Capitol to be sold to a greedy child who'll break it in days, came up, we took it.

If it was a more complicated job, they wouldn't outsource it to students. After all, even silly things like this can earn real workers money, but a children's toy is considered easy enough to give to students. If it goes well and we fix the glitches, we'll all get spending money, and if it doesn't, we get experience.

Me and Dayta jumped at the opportunity, but Lux, who's never cared about these sorts of things was more reluctant. We don't let him do no work when he's getting equal money, but I'm pretty sure both me and Dayta can tell he'd rather be anywhere but here.

I try not to let myself believe that there's really any wide difference between girls and boys, but if Lux isn't a shining example for guys maturing slower, I don't know what is. He's a full two years older than us, yet the task of getting him to stop talking and help us is similar to when we had to clean up Dayta's younger sister after she spilt bleach on her hand.

We don't even work with chemicals often, Three being the District of mostly metal and wires, and things like bleach being extremely expensive and quite difficult to obtain. But the one time we were: I think we may have been cleaning something that wasn't tech related, Dayta was being forced to babysit her sister Hux, and in minutes, she'd already tipped over what was thankfully diluted, bleach onto her hand and refused to let us wash it off.

We'd spilled it into our clothes before, but we would just quickly take of the affected article and wash our hands before changing into spare clothes and continuing. None of us knew what to do and we ended up sending Lux running round the District to find Dayta's mom.

It's been almost four years now, and the skin on her hand is still slightly discoloured and she sometimes struggles to move it. Dayta wasn't allowed in a lab for a year, and I'm pretty sure Hux will never be allowed to so much as step foot in one.

"We've only got 3 hours before the reaping and I was hoping to check out the market first, which closes in two hours, how much more have we got to do?" Lux asks and I resist the urge to strangle him.

"Maybe if you help, we can spend another half an hour on it, then come back after the reaping?" I suggest. "We want it done in three days remember,"

No one complains, so we continue, and with Lux's help, we finish in 25 minutes. Even if he doesn't enjoy it, he's good at what he does, although in Three, it's rare for a kid not to be good with tech. It happens of course, but there's sadly a high chance they won't make it to adulthood. The suicide rate in Three, according to statistics is higher than any more poverty stricken District, although lower than Career districts or the Capitol. I've not known anyone to actually have killed their self, but I know of attempts.

"What do you need from the market?" Dayta asks Lux, half jolting me out of my thoughts.

He pulled out a small list from his pocket and consulted it, frowning, "Just some hair ribbons and my mom wanted some bread if there is any," He replies.

Dayta scoffs, "No chance getting any bread at this time. You should have gone before you went into school you idiot."

Bread isn't sold much in Three. It doesn't last very long and whilst Three isn't rich, most people have enough money to refuse stale bread, but not enough to buy a loaf a day. We get most of our carbohydrate from rice so if you want bread it's both expensive and comparitavely rare against foods such as apples or pasta. It's hard to get any that isn't almost rock hard after 12 o'clock.

"It doesn't hurt to have hope," joked Lux and I laughed at their easy banter. They continued this way for the entire journey, me occasionally intersecting when the insults got too personal as they sometimes could. Lux and Dayta never used to argue this much, but I'm pretty sure they developed some sort of odd attraction to each other in the past year. I don't understand it, but I guess they could be good for each other if they could actually speak for five minutes without an insult war breaking out.

Like predicted, there was no bread, but Lux managed to pick out a length of ribbon that was a reasonable price.

"See you guys tomorrow. We still meeting up at 10?" I asked and after they both responded in the affirmative, I crossed over and walked down the alleyway to my house.

I walked through the door and down the corridor to my bedroom. I waved at Grandma who was standing in the kitchen, before opening my bedroom door and walking in.

My bedroom was never really meant to be used as a bedroom. It's small and slightly cramped, and it gets too hot. When my grandparents chose the house, it was to save money when they couldn't work anymore.

Then my mother died and I had to move in with them. They were as accommodating as they could be, and made the room as suitable as possible, but we've never been able to afford to move out.

I should miss my mother, but I don't. It sounds horrible, but she died when I was two and from the stories- and the still noticeable scar on my collarbone, she wasn't a very good mother. I wish she hadn't died of course, but I simply never knew her.

It's better than my father though. I don't even know his name. Only that I take after him and in Three, I look like pretty much everyone- except my grandparents. With my dark skin, and their pale, we scarcely look related.

"Do you want me to put your hair in a bun Nya?" Grandma asks, "It would look so pretty with that dress!"

I'm wearing a simple white dress and my hair is loose and tumbling over my shoulders. I think about it for a second before deciding. "No thanks. I think it looks okay like this, though maybe an Alice band would work?"

I pull out a white Alice band and put my hair through it. I adjust it slightly to get it to sit straight before smiling. We look at our reflection in my mirror, her skin milky white next to my caramel.

"You look so beautiful. You'll be a woman soon," Grandma smiles, but we can both see the hint of sadness. We both have tears in our eyes.

"See you later Nya. I love you,"

"Love you too," I say, and we have a quick hug before leaving my bedroom. She goes back to the kitchen, preparing our meal for later, and I leave.

* * *

 **Nikola Romanov**

 **Eighteen years old**

~My brain is a weapon I will always have~

 _Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
Face it all together_

Ready, set, go!" I say and Jozef pumps his legs as fast as he can go. I go slower on purpose to let him win and I'm rewarded by him grinning at me.

"I win!" he says, holding his hand up for a high five. I go to slap his palm, but he moves it away, laughing hysterically as if he just told the funniest joke in the world. I guess for his four year old humour, it probably was.

"Well done bro," Tamas says slapping my back, although carefully avoiding the scars, "You just got bested by a four year old."

I roll my eyes at him before mock glaring at a still laughing Jozef. "You know," I say, grinning at him, "That was rude. And do you know what rude people get?"

Jozef widens his eyes in terror. "No!" He giggles as Tamas and I advance on him.

"Tickle torture!" Jozef squirms and kicked fruitlessly, begging us to stop. We don't go on for too long, but from experience with Tamas when I was really young and he was 10 years older than me, any time in tickle torture feels like an eternity.

Jozef runs to Electra, his mother and Tamas' wife, and Tamas smiles, but there's something else in it.

'He's lucky, isn't he? That the worst kind of torture he'll ever get from family is tickle torture. He's never meeting his grandparents."

I swallow, and the scars on my back prickle. It's been nine years since I saw them, nine years since I got the beating that almost killed me, but my heart still races when I even think of them.

Our parents, to put it lightly were incredibly abusive. For Tamas it was more mental, and for me it was more physical, but we both had more than our fair share of either. When Tamas turned eighteen and had his last reaping, we made plans for us to leave and for me to stay with him, but Dad couldn't let us leave without a reminder of my previous life.

When Tamas found me in the garden after a day of work, I was barely conscious. My blood had stuck my shirt to my back so tightly, it took them over an hour to get it off. Then, I caught an infection and almost died. I was bedridden for almost four months and Tamas had to dip in to his savings to be able to afford a doctor, medication and a tiny flat on the other side of the District where we could avoid our parents. There were fears I would end up paralysed, but I pulled through, and we were finally free.

I dropped out of school, but I didn't quit learning. Tamas hired me a tutor, Electra and I probably learnt faster with her than I ever did at school. I wentt back to school three years ago, for my final two years, and honestly, I found it boring and easy. I could have stayed on, but I decided not to. Tamas and me decided he'd train me to become an engineer when I was twelve and it's what I want to do with my life.

Electra and Tamas fell in sappy, beautiful, disgusting love, and with there combined income as a teacher and an engineer to start renting a small house. It's taking a long time, but in two years it will finally be theirs to own.

They married six years ago and four years ago Jozef was born. Electra's heavily pregnant now and Jozef is equal parts annoyed and excited to be having a younger sibling.

Both me and Tamas flinch at being yelled at and I can't stand being touched by strangers or people I don't trust, but we're getting better and having Jozef around has helped both of us.

The house is small, and Jozef and the baby will have to share a room, but both Electra and Tamas have reassured me that I can live here as long as I need to. I've started contributing to food and payment when I can afford it, so I don't feel like a leach. Both me and Tamas have severe problems with feeling useless, but we're trying to get over them. It's slow, but we're learning. Tamas especially struggled with trusting Electra with equal responsibilities with Jozef.

"Another race?" Jozef begs, giving me puppy eyes. I nod, so he grabs my hand.

"Ready, set-" and without saying go, he's off. I laugh, running behind him.

"Did you just cheat?" I ask mock sternly, and for a second he looks thoughtful, as if deciding how he'll go about this. Finally he shakes his head, and offers me cheesy grin.

"That's good," says Electra, "Because I don't think I'd be able to give a cheat this." She pulls out a red lollipop, and Jozef smiles, glee in his face. He doesn't get sugar much. An unnecessary cost which could go on healthier food. He quickly grabs it before remembering to say a quick "Thank you," and running off.

"Do you need to get changed?" Electra asks, " You've only got about half an hour before you need to go," my mood changes. She sees this and pats my hand. "You'll be okay," she tries to reassure me. "It's your last reaping and your name is only in 14 times. That's nothing compared to some."

Her words fail to reassure to me, but I smile.

"I'll go get changed now," I say, "See you in a minute," She gives me a quick wave, and turns back to Jozef. His lips are already coated in red.

I can't go too tight due to my back, and loose clothes make me uncomfortable so I just put on a dark green shirt and black slacks. It's not fancy, but it's better than the first few years of my reaping, when all I could wear were the same second hand clothes I always wore. I substitute my grey sneakers for my pair of black shoes and check my bracelet is securely on my wrist. Losing it would physically hurt me. It was a birthday present from the other three, and my most precious material item. I was never able to be a sentimental person before, Mom or Dad would destroy anything I loved, so now I collect little things.

"Bye Nicky!" Says Jozef, wrapping his hands around me and wiping his sticky mouth on my stomach. "See you soon!"

I wave at all three of them and kiss Jozef's forehead. "I'll see you guys later,"

One way or another.

* * *

 **Rakesh Polglace**

 **Winner of the 99th**

 **54 years old**

* * *

61 years since the Hunger Games restarted and two victors. And one of them had a heart attack and died. Killed by his own body after surviving a death match.

That leaves me the sole mentors, and standing on Stage, waiting for our es fit to appear, I've never felt lonelier.

Then, our escort appears, and I've never felt more disgusted. Silver hayride, silver dress, silver skin. She's gone for the robot look. Maybe it's looking into things too deep, but the disrespect I feel she's giving us as district Three citizens finding out which two of us will be entering a death match is astonishing. Can't she just be content with looking ridiculous?

"Hello everyone! Before we start, I'll be showing you guys a quick video!"

She says it perkily, but as if she was reading from a script. She doesn't care about us. Why should she? We aren't from the Capitol so we aren't important.

The video was appalling, but sadly expected. If they wanted to explain why we were forced to die through the form of video wouldn't a bit of respect be helpful. Or maybe we just aren't worth it to them.

"And now for the girl!" The ridiculous woman- Ayzinnica snaps me out of my angry thoughts. "Nya Von Neumann," a girl in the older range steps out. She walks up, stock still. Reactions vary from district to district and the still shock is very common in Three. The girl stands up on stage, eyes wide.

"Lovely, and now for the boys: Nikola Romanov! Come on up!" A boy, tall but thin walks to the stage. His reaction is similar.

The two stand adjacent from each other and shake hands, Nikola- the boy dropping her hand as if it was burning hot. Ayzinnica rambles in for a few more minutes before finally allowing them to leave to see their family, one last time.

* * *

 **Nya Von Neumann**

My grandparents walk in and it takes all my power to not cry like a child, but I try and remain stoic.

"Nya," Grandad begins. I look up. "I won't be unrealistic and make you promise to win, but you're smart. You don't have the brute strength of some tributes, but don't just give up. People from Three have won before and your age gives an advantage. People may sponsor you if you play it smart."

I know this already, but him saying it clears my head slightly. "I won't promise, but I will try. If you sell my possessions if I die, keep what you need, but then think about donating the rest to science."

Thrust nod their heads, but then the two minutes are up, gone in a flash and they leave me.

Moving much quicker then my grandparents, Dayta and Lux come in. Dayta normally looks so stoic, but her hair is a mess and I see tears stains on her face. I allow myself the luxury of barrelling myself into Lux's sturdy arms and crying.

"Please Nya, don't become a throw away tribute. 3126 tributes have already died. Don't become a random face Nya. Promise!" Dayta pleads, and I nod my head. "I, I promise," I choke out, and I feel Lux patting my back. We sit in a strange place of silence, choked sobs, and whispered encouragement.

The two minutes are nearly over when I decide to speak up. "If I come back, I want to find that the two of you are together. Don't do it for me, but think about it."

They nod awkwardly, blushing and I smile, despite myself. "Thank you," I finally say and with one last hug, they leave me too.

* * *

 **Nikola Romanov**

"Nicky! Don't leave!" Jozef cries. He doesn't really understand. But he understands enough. He understands he'll never see his uncle again.

Behind him, Electra is crying. "Tamas wanted to say goodbye alone," she answers the unasked question. I hug the two of them together.

"Have a safe birth. Don't be so upset you can't take care of him or her. And please make sure Tamas is okay. I'm worried for him," I tell her, making sure I'm too quiet for Jozef to hear.

"Be good for Mommy and Daddy, I'll be thinking about you," I give Jozef one last hug and then they have to leave.

"I'm so sorry Nikola, I'm such a fucking failure! I'm so stupid!" Tamas hugs me, both of us crying. "I promised myself I'd keep you safe and I couldn't not just once, but twice!"

I swallow, "Nothing was ever your fault Tamas. You're the best brother ever and an amazing father. You kept me safe to your best abilities and without you I'd already be dead!"

He frowns, "I just wish I could have done more. If we were the same age I could have done something." He takes his arms from around my and buries his face in his hands. "Sorry for making this all about me. You're the one going into the games."

I go to answer him, but then the Peacekeeper walks in. "Time's up, no more visitors."

"Maybe I'll see you soon," I say. The words are left unspoken but I know what we're both thinking. Probably not.

 **I'm really sorry if there are grammar errors. I checked it over but I'm not great and I was too impatient to wait for MoonlessGalaxy, who normally checks over my work. I'm not great with tenses so I apologise for the bits where it has slipped around from present to future.**

 **If you have time, please drop a review, they really help my motivation and my friends are probably sick of my complaing.**

 **Starters for reviews:**

 **What did you think of Nikola and Nya? Who did you prefer?**

 **Who's supporting characters did you prefer?**

 **Are the chapter lengths and the style I have chosen okay?**

 **Once I get my reservations in, I'll be completely full, which I'm excited about. Thank you to all thst have submitted. I really hope you enjoy this story.**

 **I make no promises, but I will try to update weekly. After September that will get harder, as I have a job on Saturday, and if I do the plays I want to do, I'all be busy every day except Wednesdays and Fridays.**


	6. District Four

**Zelda Ito**

 **13 years old**

~Nature is a way of finding out things we don't already know~

 _And the walls kept tumbling down  
In the city that we love  
Grey clouds roll over the hills  
Bringing darkness from above_

* * *

"Hey Marls," I say after I've taken a few deep breaths. I wait for her head to pop out of the water before continuing, "I think I've found something. I wanna go get it."

She grins at me. "It better not be another of your 'interesting rocks' Zelda, how many do you have now? 40?" I look away slightly, and she laughs. "More?"

I nod, blushing, "52 by my last count. They're just so pretty!"

Marly nods, adjusting her goggles. "Okay, where is it? How long do you estimate?"

I put my head in the water and look. "Two minutes but don't attempt rescue until I've been longer than Three,"

Even in Four, where you pretty much have to be a strong swimmer to survive, the currants can be dangerous and if you want to do something like hunt for treasure, you have to go with someone if something goes wrong. It shouldn't take longer than two minutes to fetch the thing I see, but if it does, Marly won't start trying to rescue me, either through diving herself, or getting an adult, until it's been another minute. I've only had to be rescued once, when I got so fixtated on wanting a rock of some sort, I lost track of how long I'd been.

Everyone in Four can hold their breath for a long time, but we aren't fish and we get a lot of deaths from overconfident idiots who decide to go swimming on their own. I don't like going with anyone but Marly. I don't trust that they would actually save me if I needed it, and even if they did they'd have to touch me, and touch makes me uncomfortable.

I look around the floor until I locate what I want and I pull it up. Sometimes they stick, but the odds are in my favour and it picks up. I swim to the top, careful not to let it weigh me down.

"Two minutes and four seconds," Marly announces when I've caught my breath and put the rock with my towel and clothes. The rock is a shiny black colour and almost perfectly smooth. If I skipped stones it would be the perfect rock. Sometimes I do, but I'm not very good and I get frustrated to easily. That's my problem with training as well. I'm good with daggers, but I'm not a prodigy, and I don't like the style we're taught.

Marly is better, but not by much and we both often skip training to go swimming. The first time we skipped, I got so anxious about getting caught, it ruined mine, and although she was too nice to say anything, Marly's day. Maybe it's not a good thing to get used to, but I have, and now we probably skip at least once a week. Neither of us are planning to go into the games, but we have to carry on training until we're fourteen.

Of course, on the Reaping day, there is no training and we have a free morning, so me and Marly packed up a small picnic and went to a small place in the ocean. It's busier than normal, but there's a small patch of beach that people don't like going to. The waterbed is full of sharp rocks and it's not a good place for a casual swim. Only treasure hunters come to this place and on reaping day, most of them are spending time with family, so there are only about five other people anywhere near us.

"You ready to get out Zelda?" Asks Marly, climbing out, " I'm hungry and I bought some of your favourite food along!"

I hurriedly climb out, "You made seaweed?"

Seaweed isn't exactly rare in Four, and it's often eaten dried but Marly's way of doing it is an old family way that tastes better than anything you can get in a store. She knows I have a weakness for it, more than anything. I'm a really fussy eater and sometimes I won't be able to manage other foods.

"I don't think a tsunami could have gotten you out of there any faster," Marly laughs and I stick my tounge out, "I didn't bring much, but I have more at home so you can have more when you come round later for dinner."

I throw my hands around her neck and give her a quick squeeze, "Did I mention that you're the best friend in the world?"

"One or twice. I think every time I feed you. A bit like a cat really." She hands me the seaweed and I break off a small piece and pop it into my mouth.

"I don't suppose you'll ever share the recipe with me," I joke, and she rolls her eyes.

"Not on your life. What's the time?"

I look in my bag of stuff until I find my watch. "Just over an hour before the reaping. You wanna go now?"

We walk along the wide cliff path together until we get to our house. When my dad's at sea, which is most of the time nowadays, Pearlie and I stay with her and her mom. Normally Pearlie would come swimming with us, but we left earlier than usual, so we would get a good amount of time before the reaping and Pearlie only wakes up early when she has school or early training.

Marly's house is quite small, so all three of us have to share a bedroom, but luckily Marly doesn't begrudge us this.

"Do you want to borrow my sandals Zelda?" Asks Pearlie as soon as we walk in to our room. "They would look really nice with your dress, the turquoise one."

"You say that as if I have more than one dress," I say, "But yeah, aren't your feet slightly smaller than mind though?"

She screws up her face as if to think, "No, they were but I my feet grew a few months ago. It's why I only have three pairs of shoes. But you need to look pretty, and your sandals are all scuffed."

"My sandals are lived in for your information," I say mock haughtily and both she and Marly laugh at me. "But yeah thanks, I will if you're sure."

"I'm gonna have a shower first," says Marly, but I'll only be ten minutes tops,"

Her hair is much shorter than mine and takes much less time to wash, so this makes sense so I nod my head, and set to work looking for my dress. I normally live in shorts and tank tops, with my swimming costume underneath, so Reaping day is the only occasion I get dressed up. If only it was a nicer occasion.

"All done," Marly walks back into our room already dressed and towel drying her hair.

I take my dress, a towel and underwear and head into the bathroom. The water is only lukewarm, but Four often gets too hot and it feels nice. I work the soap through my hair and rinse it out.

I squeeze the water out of my hair thoroughly and wrap it into a neat bun, securing it with several pins before drying myself and putting in the dress. Luckily it still fits me. If it was even a bit too small I wouldn't be able to wear it.

"You look nice," I tell Marly. Her sandy coloured hair is in two French plaits and her knee length green dress is different than what she wore for her first reaping. Everyone has had a growth spurt except me. It's not fair.

"Right back at you," she replies, "You ready to go?"

I nod and give a quick hug to Pearlie. "See you soon," she says.

"Bye mom!" Marley yells, going to open the door. Marina, envelopes us both in a hug, despite our jokey protests and gives us a kiss each on the forehead.

"See you later girls. I won't say have fun, but make sure you aren't in discomfort from being pushed Zelda. If one of you gets reaped, keep calm whilst the volunteer does her job. I love you both,"

"Bye!" Marly and I wave at her before getting out of the door.

"Don't worry too much Zelda," She bumps my hip gently with her's, "We're safe in Four."

* * *

 **Mako Sandy**

 **Seventeen years old**

~You can't trust anyone. I know firsthand. Don't make the same mistake I did~

 _If_ _I bleed tonight If I am sad tonight I don't have a job to find Work tonight If I'm so tired tonight I'll fall asleep when I'm home When I'm home_

* * *

"Nina, do you have to volunteer? The games are stupid, and you're stupid if you think the Capitol will ever care about you."

I watch as Nina's face goes a reddish colour and she pulls herself up, ready for an argument. Maybe the way I said it was harsh, but it's true and I couldn't change that even if I wanted to.

"Do you know what Mako, I'm sick of you acting like you're better than the games," Her words come out in an angry spiel, and she pokes me in the chest, "Until a few years ago we were training together and planning to go into the games, so shut up."

"Yeah, I was thinking of going into the games. And then I grew up." I push her hand off of me. "Why can't you do the same?"

"Some of us want a better life. I want to get out of the Community Home, but even once I've left there'll still be the stigma. Barely anyone from the Community home gets a good job. I don't care how the Capitol views me. It's not like they can't give me the house anyway."

"Just because you've been chosen doesn't mean you have to do it. Isn't dishonour less bad than death? Or are you that arrogant Nina?" I see that in the mood she's in means there's no arguing, but I have to try. I can't have more people I care about die.

"Savannah would have supported me."

I snap my head up. "Don't you dare use Savannah against me."

"It's true and you know it. You can't pretend it isn't."

"Well do you know what Nina?" I attempt to swallow back the lump in my throat and blink away the tears in my eyes. "Savannah is dead so it doesn't matter anyway. If you go into the games and somehow miraculously survive, our relationship will be dead."

"You're breaking up with me?" Her voice went high and shrill. "What the fuck Mako?"

I glare at her. "It's your choice." I turn, and walk away from her. When I turn a corner, I lean my head on the wall, feeling numb with rage and sadness. Nina and me have been together since we were fifteen. We knew each other as children and we've been through everything together. I was with her when she was nine and her mother died and her father couldn't cope so she and her younger brother had to go to the Community home and she's been with me for everything.

She stuck with me during The Incident, and then stayed with me months later when me sister died, not from the games, but from a gang related fight.

But if she decides to go into the games, I know that I won't be able to stick with her. She's endorsing unnecessary death and I can't stand it. I won't stand for it.

I punch the nearest wall and watch in fascination and an odd kind of horror as my hand begins to bleed. The wall still looks perfectly fine- except the smudge of blood on one of the bricks. Except from the grazing, my hand looks okay, but it hurts like hell. It's the only pain I can focus on and I welcome that as I walk back to my home.

"Ko, you okay?"

I lift my eyes from the ground to see my older brother Josh standing in front of me, green eyes that match mine looking concerned.

"I'm fine thanks," I say shortly, not wanting to speak. I need to be alone and even my brother is too much.

I walk into my large bedroom and lie on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Three years, completely gone in one argument. It's not fair. Why does she have to be so stubborn?

I pull myself up slowly and go into my bathroom to take a shower. I turn the water to almost scaldingly hot and stand underneath it and watch the droplets roll off my body.

Nina may be right. Savannah would have been happy to watch her go into the games. But Savannah was flawed and she could make rash desisions. If she had been smarter with her choices, maybe she would be alive.

She was the closest sibling in age to me and the only girl in our family. She was three years older than me, but she got into the wrong crowd. When she was eighteen she was part of a gang fight. They were better trained and she was one of eleven casualties, four of them just innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My family refuses to admit it was her own fault, but it was and I hate her for it. But I also love her. I sometimes struggle to balance the two feelings.

I get out of the shower and find a clean red shirt. I wear it with a pair of jeans and a tag around my neck. I run my fingers through my blood red hour and spike it up with my gel.

I check my heavy watch for the time and smile faintly. Exactly on time. Maybe the one thing that went right today.

"See you later Ko," Joey, my other brother claps my shoulder. "Just one more year 'til you're free like us,"

I give him a small smile as I walk out the front door.

I walk to the square, about to get my blood taken when Nina runs up to me, her hair curled and wearing a red dress. "Mako," she starts, "I won't say you're right, but I'm delaying my volunteering for a year. I've talked to our trainer's and they say it's okay. They're trying to get a message to Cresta that she's been chosen."

I stare at her. She almost never comprises. It's one of the things I both love and hate. "Thank you, that means a lot to me,"

I can't breath for a moment so I walk towards the square, leaving Nina behind.

* * *

 **Syrene Waverlee**

 **Winner of the 131st**

 **23 years old**

* * *

I stand backstage, ready to go on, when our escort Aquata walks behind, looking upset.

"Aquata, are you okay?" I ask concerned. We don't see each other much, her living in the Capitol and all, but she's barely three years older than me, my game's being her first time.

Marlin, my mentor was downright cruel. He made it clear that he despised Career tributes from our first meeting and refused to give us any help. Our other mentor, Julia was on some heavy drugs and was too spaced out to help us.

My district partner took himself to his room and refused to come out for the entire train ride and being a person unused to loneliness I had no idea how to react to feeling so alone.

Aquata helped me with those feelings and we struck up a strong bond. When I won she was my first visitor, and I've volunteered to be the District Four mentor every year to just so we can spend a few weeks together, catching up- even if the circumstances aren't great.

"I'm fine, I just broke my heel on my shoes. You know how clumsy I can be! Look at this," she shoes me a disk, "They want to start showing this at every reaping. I haven't seen it yet but it's meant to be the history of the genes condensed into a few minutes!"

I have my scepticalities about the quality of the video, but I don't voice them, instead just nodding before walking on stage to stand with Marlin. Seconds later Aquata follows.

"Welcome everyone and happy Hunger Games! Before we start, the Capitol has a special surprise for you to watch!"

When she's acting for a camera, her voice goes higher. I wish it wouldn't. She doesn't need to be fake.

She needs to delete the video though. The video needs to be deleted from excistance. No one should be forced through it.

No one should be forced through a lot of things.

"And now for the girls! Zelda Ito!"

A small girl, maybe thirteen years old walks up, looking terrified.

"Any volunteer?"

I wait expectantly, but no girl appears. Close up, I see Aquata swallow, but she keeps her smile. It's not fair. I want to scream but I can't.

"And now for our male! Mako Sandy!"

I vaguely reminisce the surname, but not the tall boy that walks onto the stage, head held high, chin stick out.

"Any volunteers?"

Again, no one says a word. It's terrible, but the injustice doesn't seem as strong. Somehow, in the few years between the two tributes, killing one isn't as bad as the other. It's not right, but it's true.

But that describes a lot of things.

* * *

 **Zelda Ito**

"Zelda!" Pearlie runs in and we collapse into each other. "It's not fair," she repeats, again and again. "This shouldn't happen! You're thirteen! Why, Zelda? Why?"

"I don't know," I choke out. "I hate this. I'm gonna die Pearlie!"

"Don't die, please Zelda, You're my sister! You're my best friend. Don't die!" I can barely move, paralysed with fear, but we hug each other. Pearlie puts her hands behind her neck and fumbles with the clasp. "Keep this," she says, "This can be your token!"

"Pearlie, I can't take your necklace! It's yours!"

"I want you to have it, please Zelda,"

In non verbal consent, I bend my head and she secures the clasp and straightens it. "You look so pretty Zelda. You're the best sister in the world. I'm gonna miss you!"

We dissolve into tears again, and we stay, just hugging each other and crying.

All too soon, I'll have to go. But for now I can stay with my arms around Pearlie.

Maybe one day I'll be with her again.

* * *

 **Mako Sandy**

"Thank you," Nina begins, "For convincing me not to volunteer."

I nod, refusing to show any emotion. Not volunteering, I'm already at a disadvantage, but if I can convince the Careers that I would have volunteered anyway, I'll hopefully be able to get in.

Having a kid as a partner could make things easier or harder. I have to depend on luck and being able to talkmy way out of this mess. I'm unconfident on either skill, but I have to try.

I sit, back straight, waiting for Nina to leave. If I speak to her, I could break down, and I need to stay strong.

One thing I've learnt in my hellhole of a life; through every bit of pain, through every betrayal, is that only the strong will survive.

I'm strong physically.

And now I need to be strong mentally.

 **This chapter is probably slightly too mentor heavy. I'm unsure on that.**

 **What do you think of these two? Is the Career pack going to be strong this year? 1/3 of the way in to the reapings. If you have any complaints, please express them.**

 **ALSO LOOK AT ME KEEPING ON AN INCREDIBLY EASY SCHEDULE!**

 **(I literally did 90% of it today instead of spreading it evenly over the week like a normal person.)**


	7. District Five

**Lisa Curie**

 **14 years old**

~The reason I talk to myself is because I'm the only one whose answers I accent~

 _And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_  
 _The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_  
 _I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_  
 _When people run in circles it's a very very_  
 _Mad world, mad world_

People don't notice many things about me.

They don't realise that I'm still the same person I was before what happened.

They don't realise that I'm desperately lonely

But most of all, they don't realise that I've learnt to read lips.

I used to be popular. I was loud, probably annoying and talkative. I had a group of friends. I thought we'd be friends forever.

But after going deaf, they quickly abandoned me. For a while, I was just friendless. But then they turned on me. I couldn't hear the whispers, but I could see them laughing, feel them pulling my hair.

I can still speak. But I don't. I don't know what I'd say if one day I decided to open my mouth. 'Stop it?' 'Help me?' 'Leave me alone?' But the words won't come so I remain silent.

It's all my parents fault. Many teens may say that, annoyed that they didn't get what they wanted or just embarrassed, but my parents did this to me.

They're inventors. When I was nine, they made an invention. An alarm clock that would send frequencies to your brain. They got lazy with the math, arrogant enough to think it was perfect. When they tested it out me, with the promise of extra money, the frequency was too high and it turned me deaf.

I'll never forgive them. It may have been an accident, but it was an easily preventable one.

Slowly, taking me years, I learnt to lip read, to be part of the world again, but by that time I was already destined to be alone forever.

They cover their faces, laughing, tucking their hair behind their ears, rubbing their heads, but I can still catch words. I can't hear the laughter but I can see the cruel twists of their mouths.

You'd have thought they'd lost interest by now, but I'm their favourite target. They're bullies, plain and simple. And the worst part is that I used to be one of them.

Someone could tell me that me becoming deaf is just reaping what I sowed, but if that's the case, what do they get?

Lying at home, on my bed like I'm going now is the only time I can feel normal. Reading is a big part of my life. I'm not listening desperately for sounds I'll never hear.

Engrossed in my book, I don't notice my door opening and until she taps me on the shoulder and looks up, I don't see my mother. 'Lunch,' I see her lips move, and I carefully fold my page over and set it dorm, before following her.

Lunch may be silent, but they may be talking. I wouldn't know. Funny how that works. Neither of them look at me unless they want to talk directly to me and they aren't sitting across from me either. They've never tried to make things easier for me. Maybe there was nothing they could have done, but why couldn't they have tried? Neither of them have ever said sorry or shown remorse, but don't expect them to. They aren't emotive people.

When I was young, they weren't like this, but they started invented amazing things, things that changed the way rich Capitolite's lived. But they got greedy. Testing on their nine year old daughter wasn't their wake up call. It was just mine.

Suddenly, I feel tears pricking at my eyes. Horrified, I stand up abruptly and walk to my room. Maybe it says more about me that I can't let my parents see my cry. Maybe I'm too bitter. Maybe I shouldn't hold onto my anger. But I do, and as I sit, head on my knees and letting myself sob, hopefully quietly, I don't care.

On reaping day, my emotions are more intense and my tears come more easily, but even five years on, I still sometimes cry, the idea that I'm deaf for life still not sunk into my brain. I don't know if it ever will.

Finally, my sobs recide and I walk down the hallway and turn our shower on. Starting at the roots, I rub shampoo that smells like strawberries, and then conditioner that smells like raspberry. I rinse it and then turn the water off and wring it out, before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my head.

I take my other towel and wrap it around, before walking back to my bedroom. I put on my 'special occasion' white dress and wrap the towel around my shoulders to brush my hair out.

I remember hairdryers making a lot of noise, so using one and hearing nothing is one thing on my list of many surreal things, but stopping to think about it is a sure fire way to start crying again so I finish drying my hair before giving it another brush.

I decide to leave it down but twist the very front into braids to keep them from ending up in my face. The air in Five has no breeze going through it, but moving around too much will still result in tendrils dangling into my eyes.

I look at myself once more before walking out of my bedroom, and then the front door.

People around me are talking, breathing , laughing, and I can't hear a sound. It's times when I'm around this many people that I've never felt more alone.

* * *

 **Edwin Bishop**

 **Fifteen years old**

~Everybody's mind works in different ways, but some people's minds work better than others~

 _I'm bulletproof nothing to lose  
Fire away, fire away  
Ricochet, you take your aim  
Fire away, fire away  
You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium  
You shoot me down but I won't fall  
I am titanium, I am titanium, I am titanium, I am titanium_

I light our small but powerful gas cooker and get to work cracking eggs and frying bacon. I've saved up my pocket money for weeks to be able to afford good quality meat, but we always have eggs. Oren and his mom keep chickens because many people at the market refuse to sell to them and they need a food source. Money isn't a problem for them, so they can afford to keep them in comfort and so the eggs are good and plentiful.

I watch the bacon carefully, making sure it's cooked without being burnt. When it's almost finished, I pour the whisked up egg into a different frying pan and watch as it puffs up into scrambled eggs.

"That smells good," says dad, walking into the kitchen, "Where did you get the bacon?"

"I went up to the market this morning," I reply, "I left a note, but neither of you woke up. They gave me a reaping day discount so I got some tomatoes, but they don't need to be cooked."

He peers over my shoulder, "It looks great, how long has it got?"

"Give me five minutes please. Could you wake mom up?"

In my house, dad normally has to leave for work at six and then I'm leaving for school by seven. My mom isn't a morning person, so it's rare that we actually eat breakfast together. Similarly, for lunch, mom and dad are working and I'm at school. Mom spends her evenings tutoring Oren, and I'll often stay behind school way too late to finish homework so eating dinner together is rare too.

We aren't poor, but we aren't well off either. We won't starve, but we aren't always satisfied. It's how most families in Five live. Oren's family is slightly richer from an inheritance, but years ago, before Oren was even born, his father was accused of being a rebel and executed. I was only six at the time and even I remember it being a huge scandal. Some shops and stalls won't sell to him or his s mother, so they've had to become self sufficient.

Oren is really bright for a nine year old, but he was never allowed to go to school. Due to supplying the power, any hint of rebellion in Five is completely squashed out and any remaining family will forever be treated as less than everyone else, almost as kin to animals.

It isn't fair, and some people sell to families of rebels anyway, but getting too close is heavily frowned upon, and even if the peacekeepers can't outright arrest you, they'll never leave you alone. Mom tutoring him and our family friendship has to be kept quiet, even though Oren never even knew his dad and it's been almost ten years since he was convicted.

I serve up three plates , sighing at how much effort and money it took for such a small amount of food.

"That looks amazing Eddie," says mom rubbing her eyes, "I love tomatoes!"

We sit down and I take a bite of a bit of everything. The bacon is too fatty and the eggs could be crispier, I take mental notes, ready to put them down in my daily log. Other than that, it tastes nice and it's a good change from either the days before a leftovers or the cheapest kind of cereal. Reaping day is a day to eat in luxury.

It's also a day to fear for your life, but you can't put that on a t-shirt.

I bet the Capitol would try to though.

"We can do the clearing away Eddie, you can go up and get ready," mom smiles at me and gives me a pat on the arm, "Thank you for the lovely meal. It was good."

It wasn't really, but I accept the compliment and walk to my room. It takes me a while to find them, but I slip on my brown dress pants and pair it with my school shirt. The reaping isn't for another three hours so grabbing my small bag with my log book and some glasses wipes in case they get smudged like they so often do, I walk out of my bedroom and go to Oren's.

"Hi Ms Phillips, how are you?"

"I can't complain, I'm doing well today. Oren's in his room but good luck pulling him away from his book." she replies.

I laugh, "I can try, but I'm only mortal,"

As she predicted, Oren was leaning over his book and squinting. I was pretty sure he needed glasses and Ms Phillips agreed, but there was no way to get him tested and in his own words, he doesn't want to 'look like a nerd.'

"One sec," he says, "I want to get to the end of this page,"

I roll my eyes, "But then you'll want to read the next page."

With an exaggerated sigh he closes his book, "What can I do for you Edwin?" He says with false cheeriness.

"Respect your elders for one thing," I mock clout him and he sticks his tongue out at me. "I have a few hours before the Reaping and I've just finished my book so I thought I'd come and annoy you,"

"Do you wanna play a game then? I'll get out my cards," he gets off his bed and looks around for them. "I'll deal cos you always cheat when you get to."

"Liar," I say in mock offense, "I'm just better than you,"

He pulls a face at me "Shove off Eddie,"

"Rude," I put my hand over my heart. "You've wounded my mortal soul.

"Like you don't deserve it. Found them. I'm still dealing."

I sigh dramatically, "Fine, but I'll still win."

He won. And then he won again. And then I won a game. But then he won yet again.

"Not to be a sore loser, but I've gotta go now. I'll see you tomorrow squirt."

"I'm six years younger and barely an inch shorter. I don't think you can call me that anymore."

"Bye Oren,"

"Love ya Eddie,"

"Right back at you."

I check my watch and decide to go straight to the square. If I went back I would be late and the peacekeeper would be even rougher taking my blood. Mom and dad know where I'll be so it doesn't matter what I do.

In the back of my mind I vaguely realise that if I'm reaped, nothing I can do will matter. But I push that away. I can't deal with thoughts like that.

* * *

 **Bane Briggs**

 **Winner of the 121st**

 **31 years old**

Mentoring is one of the hardest things in the world. Every year, I'm forced to watch two kids I know, maybe just in passing, or a familiar name, but I know, die. Every year, I'm forced to confront just how lucky I was to survive.

"Welcome, to the 137th Hunger Games! Most districts will get the honour of watching a special video, buy I'm sad to report that our projector broke. Whilst you'll hopefully it will be fixed in time to watch the games, we won't be able to enjoy this video! Without further ado, the female tribute is Lisa Curie!"

For a few minutes, no one appears, but a few whispers start up, especially around the female side of the square and eventually a crying girl comes up on stage. Suddenly, the slowness of showing makes sense. A few years ago, the girl became deaf in a freak accident. Sad.

"Welcome Lisa! The male joining us will be Edwin Bishop."

A boy, also around fifteen walks up into the stage and I have to swallow. Living in the same district, most of us look the same, but he reminds me almost exactly of myself the year I was fifteen.

The year I won the games.

"Welcome both of you! Shake hands please."

For a few seconds Lisa doesn't react, and Edwin just stands there, but she quickly realised what happens, and with a noticeable blush, she shakes his hand. "Sorry," she mutters to him, so quietly I barely heard it three feet away.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

* * *

 **Lisa Curie**

My cheeks still burning from embarrassment, and my back hurting from being prodded to get me to move when I didn't realise my name was being called, I wait for my parents to enter.

I wait it for my parents to come and say 'goodbye,' and 'I'll miss you,' even if I doubt it's true.

But they don't come.

I knew they didn't care, but to have it confirmed in such a way doubles me over in pain. For two minutes, I sit there, unable to move.

And when the peacekeeper tells me to get on the train, I swear I see a flash of sympathy in his eyes.

Sympathy for the deaf girl whose parents don't care enough to say goodbye to their as good as dead daughter.

 **Edwin Bishop**

Everyone who I love crowds in at once. My mom and my dad, but also Oren and Ms Phillips

"Sorry to intrude on your family time Eddie," Ms Phillips starts, "Oren wanted to see you, but they wouldn't let us come in without your family."

"It's okay," I say, "I'm just glad I could say goodbye to all of you,"

I've almost gone numb. I can't feel. I watch as mom lets out a sob and buries her face in dad's arm and I watch as Oren and Ms Phillips hug together, but I can't cry. I feel sad, I feel scared, but the emotions feel like an afterthought.

"I love you all."

And then, a peacekeeper walks in, and suddenly, I can't breath for the sobbing, "Help me," I scream, "I don't want to die!"

My family watches, powerless as he drags me off to the train.

I'm going to die, and I'm going to die alone.

 **I'm sorry this isn't such great quality. I've had very little motivation and I'm not really happy, but I don't want to stop regularly uploading so quickly. Hopefully my next chapter will be better.**

 **Who do you prefer out of these two characters? Who is your LEAST favourite character so far?**

 **Is once a week enough? I could do more regular, but shorter if that is what you'd prefer.**


	8. District Six

**Ingrid Chantilly**

 **16 years old**

~Every scar I have makes me who I am~

 _All the shine of a thousand spotlights  
All the stars we steal from the nightsky  
Will never be enough  
Never be enough  
Towers of gold are still too little  
These hands could hold the world but it'll  
Never be enough  
Never be enough_

* * *

Three in the morning is a time where magic can happen.

It's also a time where you can be laying in bed, eyes- or eye in my case, wide open. Terrified of what could happen. For six years of your life, you live in almost constant fear. At your most happiest of moments- at your most relaxed, there will always be a voice in the back of your mind. A voice saying: "Only a few months before you could get picked."

There's no escape from the feeling, and tonight- the night before the reaping is when the cold hand at your stomach begins to tighten.

Sleeping is rarely an issue for me, but I realise as I switch on my lamp and search around for my notebook that tonight I will not be getting any.

 _3:42am_

I write after checking my watch.

 _Dear diary,_

 _It's me again. I shouldn't have to introduce myself so formally, I'm the only one that will ever read this, but there's something comforting in it._

 _District 6 is my home and I love most of it- except the druggies, but I wish the Gamss didn't exist._ _I wish the Capitol didn't exist!_

I hurriedly scribble the last six words out, my heart beating. Hopefully no one will ever read those words, but it's better to be safe then sorry. If anyobe ever found this notebook, words like that could be taken as rebellious conduct, punishable offence.

Which is a reason I hate living in Panem. I've read books. Books where the world is free. Books where you can say things without fear of things happening.

I clench my fists and push the bad thoughts away. District Six is where I live and I should count myself lucky. We don't know much about other districts, but whilst Six may have a drug problem, in other districts, you would be killed for so much as thinking about drugs. When I was young, older classmates would scare me by telling me stories about the Capitol having mind reading machines, but I think they were joking. I still try to only think good things around Peacekeepers, but sometimes my head buzzes with thoughts before I can remember to push them away.

 _I only have a few years more to go, but I'm scared. If I'm picked what will I do? I'm not strong and my only talent is drawing and even then only people. My teachers tell me to 'look on the bright side' but I can't find what the bright side of dying would be. Maybe, if those people that stand on the streets are right and there Is really an Afterlife I'll be able to see out of both eyes and people won't think I'm weird but what if what I said about the Capitol makes me go to the bad afterlife._

 _Though I don't really believe it. I asked Mom once and she spjust rolled her eyes and then told me: "Ingrid, those men were on drugs and you shouldn't listen to them," only she also swore a lot when she said that and she didn't say it politely, but I only got this notebook a few weeks ago and I don't want to swear in it. _

_Anyway, my hand is starting to hurt and I don't_ _like writing so I'm going to draw until it's late enough in the morning for me to be able to do stuff without waking Mom up._

 _I don't know whether or not I should say 'bye' because it's just something people say to be good socially, but I will anyway._

 _Goodbye-_

 _Ingrid Chantilly_

It's weird, writing makes my hand ache, but drawing doesn't. I open the book on my desk and look at the picture. I wanted to draw every Victor of the Hunger Games as project, but I couldn't find any pictures of victors from before the rebellion, so I decided to just do the ones from the 76th and onwards.

At the moment I'm on the 85th. His name is Caddy and even 52 years, at 70 years old he's mentoring. He's from Distruct 6 and mentors every other year. When I saw uphold picture a few days ago I was surprised about how handsome he was. Even before winning, he was rich enough to dye his hair, and even though his stylist tried to hide it by making him wear a hat, you can still see from the strands poking out that it was bright blue. The picture was taken in his pre-games interview and I like to think I can see some laughter in his eyes- even if I'm bad at reading emotion even in real life.

Four hours later, I finish sketching and shading his face, although I still need to draw his hair and clothes on. When I lose myself in drawing, I often don't notice how much time has past. I focus on other things too. Once I spent an entire lesson just staring at a spot of ink on the floor, and another time, at a stray hair on a girls jumper. The latter of thosd times ended badly for me, because the girl thought I was staring at her and took offence, and she got her boyfriend, who is known to take drugs that make him angry, to punch me. It really hurt, and for a few minutes I saw these black spots, which really scared me because I'm already blind in one eye, and my second biggest fear in my life is going blind in the other, which was said to be likely when I was born.

No one says it, but me having so many problems was such a cause for stress that my father- barely even twenty-five, killed himself rather than deal with me. Mom says he already had problems, but I'm scared that she resents me for being a factor. He died when I was four, so I still have memories of what he looked like but when Mom showed me the wedding photos, tears after he died it made me sad to see how carefree he looked.

I shake my head to get rid of the bad thoughts again and walk into our kitchen and pull out the box of oats. I get a saucepan and add water before shaking in the correct amount of oats and putting it on our gas stove. For five minutes, I mix, making sure the oats don't stick to the pan and burn and then I leave them to rest for a few minutes. I look in our fridge and smile when I see that the pot of cream I had a few days ago both has some left and is still smelling okay.

I pour the porridge into two bowls, leaving one for Mom, and putting cream in my own. I take it into my room and sit at my desk. I can't concentrate on more then one thing at once, so I don't read as I eat, but when I've finished and washed my bowl, I open my reading book and making sure to be conscious of the time- allow myself to get sucked into the story.

I fold my page over to make sure I don't lose where I am, and pick up the clothes I chose yesterday- a pair of black trousers and a blue shirt. They're comfortable but look smart. I put them on and make sude my hair is neat. I keep it cut short so it doesn't tangle or weigh me down, but sometimes it sticks up.

Satisfied that it's okayi walk into moms room. She knows that I need to be alone on a day like this so I don't freak out. I'm too anxious to hug her, but I squeeze her fingers.

"See you later Ingrid. Try and keep calm in the crowd."

Talking is too much energy, and I need it all to brave the square, so I just nod my head and give her a quick wave.

Time to be brave.

* * *

 **Nox Elderman**

 **12 years old**

~I didn't want to be an outcast. But apparently I am~

 _On the outside, always looking in  
Will I ever be more than I've always been?  
'Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass  
I'm waving through a window  
I try to speak, but nobody can hear  
So I wait around for an answer to appear  
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass  
I'm waving through a window, oh  
Can anybody see, is anybody waving back at me?_

* * *

"Have you got any threes?" I ask Viveca, my older sister. She groans. "Should I take that as a yes?"

She mock glares at me and reluctantly hands over the cards. "Fuck you bro," I stick my tounge out at her. "Fuck you."

"That isn't very nice!" I say mock indignantly, "but luckily I think winning will take the edge off of that." I show her my cards and she faceplants. "Read 'Em and weep sucker!"

I begin a victory dance and she shields her eyes from me. "Make it stop!" She groans, meaning I have no choice but to continue.

Then mother walks in, and I immediately sit down, back straight, Viveca having already straightened up.

"What was that I just saw Nox? Why are you embarrassing yourself like that?"

I look down, embarrassed and not wanting to make a sound. When mother is in a mood like this, anything can anger her. Today, it's my first reaping and Viveca's third, so she's even more tense than she is normally. Walking in on me doing a stupid dance couldn't have helped those feelings.

"Do you know what? I'm not in the mood. I'm going into my room and don't disturb me unless there's an absolute emergency. Do you understand?"

We both nod, ashamed.

At least she didn't hear Viveca's swearing. That would have tipped her over the edge.

As a Peacekeeper, she's never truly relaxed, even more so from absolutely hating District Six. She was trained to be a Peacekeeper in a career District, and they have slightly different training from normal Peacekeepers. Having to work in Distruct Seven was apparently bad enough for her, but when she met my dad, and fell in love with him, she was sent out to District Six in a disgrace.

She was amazingly lucky though. Often, people in her situation could end up avoxed, but she was allowed to keep her toddler as she moved, on the condition she never talked to my father again- not that she could. When she got to Six however, she discovered she was several months pregnant with me.

Of course, she would never tell either me or Viveca any of this, but a while ago, we found her old journal when we were sorting out the house. We shouldn't have read it, but we knew nothing about our mother or father and we both needed to know.

Reading it was surreal. We couldn't imagine our plain, no nonsense mother ever daring to rebel. She doesn't take any pleasure in hurting anyone, but she follows the Peacekeeper rules almost exactly wguch has resulted in her having to whip people only a few years older than Vivica for things like graffiti or breaking curfew.

From that, and having the names and appearances of children from seven, neither me or Viveca are particularly liked. Maybe the one good thing about this is how close we are. She's my best friend, even if she is two years older than me and annoying as hell.

We aren't bullied, or even teased, but we are different, and sometimes that feels pole enough. It's not fair, but I understand and I can't blame them. If they had family that ever hurt Viveca in any way I eiuld never be able to speak, or look them in the eye without spitting at them in contempt.

"Nox!" Viveca clicked her fingers in front of my face. "You alright?"

Suddenly, I realise I'd zoned out with all the thoughts running through my head. "Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking. Do you you wanna go make lunch?"

She looks at me oddly. "Yeah sure, what are we having?"

"Steak?"

"You must not have zoned back in. Maybe on Sunday if we could spare the cash, but unlikely."

I sigh, but it wasn't like I really thought we would be able to. "Grilled cheese then?"

"Better. You can grate the cheese. Don't you dare get any blood in it."

"I won't! You startled me last week."

"I asked you to pass me the salt!"

"And that startled me!"

She glares, but there's no heat behind it. "Whatever, hurry up I'm hungry and we've only got two hours and I need to wash my hair. It feels greasy."

"Why don't you cut it short then?"

"Because then, we'd probably be identical. And no one wants that."

"Hey!" I pout. "What's wrong with my appearence?"

"What's right with your appearance more like," she snorts, and I try to punch her arm but she dodges.

Before long, the cheese is ready and we sit down, talking about random things, trying to keep our mind off of needing to leave for the reapings.

"Try and look smart for once in your life," she says . I'd pout, but I can't refute the fact that my style is normally pretty messy.

"I'll try," I groan, and I'm rewarded by a smile.

"Good luck then. See you in an hour."

Before a few weeks ago, I didn't own any smart clothes, but knowing I'd need some for the reaping, I went shopping. Our family is well off, it's not like being a Peacekeeper is bad pay, even for a less important district like Six, but we aren't mega rich so I couldn't get anything too fancy- not that I'd want to. Eventually I decided on a black dress shirt and matching trousers. Viveca polished my shoes when she was doing ger own earlier today, so the overall effect was pretty smart.

My hair is so closely cropped there's nothing I can do with it, so don't bother, and walk out. Viveca takes longer, but finally she's ready too.

"Goodbye you two. I'll see you later if you aren't chosen."

Viveca rolls her eyes at her bluntness, but I have the sudden urge to hug her and beg for her to get me out of this situation, but I manage to control myself, although I dont know how.

I don't know if I can do this.

I have to do this.

 **Caddy Benz**

 **Winner of the 85th**

 **67 years old**

So many years of mentoring and it never gets easier. Each tribute blurs into each other but I can remember a few. The little 12 year old that screamed if you would go near her, The fifteen year old that never said a word. But the worst are the optimistic. The ones that try to keep their partner smiling. The ones that never get upset or angry.

Almost every time, they're killed in the bloodbath.

Most victors in Six- not that there are many, turn to morphling to self medicate, but I've never done so. Not our of morality or wanting to stay alert. For I another reason. I won the Hunger Games, but I'm terrified of needles. It's an odd contradiction.

"Welcome to the 137th annual Hunger Games!"

They're so faint now, but I have memories of before the rebellion. I was 3 when it happened, and six when they restarted the Hunger Games. It started with doing one for Capitol children but they continued. The saying is true: An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

"This year, we have a special surprise for every District. We get to watch a video!"

Her sugary sweet voice hurts my ears, and when she starts the video, it's the first time I ever wish I'd started taking Morphling. It wasn't pretty. And judging from the reactions, the kids didn't like it either. Or maybe they were just scared shitless. That could be a reason.

"Our first tribute is Ingrid Chantilly!"

A sobbing girl with pale skin and short dark hair walks on stage. Sobbers rarely last for more than a few days. It's hard, but true.

And my heart sinks when the boy, 'Nox Elderman,' walks on stage. He's only 12. Another loss year for Six.

I keep my expression neutral but already I know that I can't have any hope.

They should have their funerals now.

* * *

 **Ingrid Chantilly**

Why me?

I've never done anything wrong. I've always tried to be a good person. It's not fair.

"I'll miss you so much, mom," I say and she hugs me.

"Don't lose hope Ingrid. Once you lose hope, you're dead in seconds. Anyone has a chance. Please try Ingrid."

I wrinkle my nose in disbelief. "I won't not try, but it won't help mom. I'm useless."

"Don't say that Ingrid! You aren't."

I am, but I refuse to argue with her on the last time I see my mom. Instead, I just sink deeper into her hug. Maybe it won't be too painful to die.

* * *

 **Nox Elderman**

"Where's mother?" I ask Viveca in the mix of crying and hugging. Surely she isn't that cold.

"Don't worry bro, she's coming in a minute. She wanted to talk to you alone. I think it's important."

"It doesn't matter. You're more important," I say and she smiles faintly. "Love you Vivvie."

"Love you too Nox."

A knock at the heavy door startles us out of our hug, and mother walks in, back even more rigid than normal. "I'll meet you at home Viveca,"

"But," she protests, but mother cuts her off.

"Go home Viveca."

Viveca angrily walks out, and I keep my eyes on her, until I can't see her. When she's out, mother quickly shuts the door.

"We don't have much time," she says urgently. "Take this." She hands me her Peacekeeper badge. "If you survive the bloodbath, somehow destroy this in the arena."

I look at her in shock. I knew she was angry at the Capitol, but to not just condone, but ask me to do an act like this. That was downright rebellious.

"I'll try."

"Goodbye Nox. Good luck son."

 **Sorry this took slightly longer. As I've been complaining too much to my friends, a slight lack of reviews was the reason. I know it sounds really bad, but I won't sugar coat it. Feedback, even if it's "meh, you've done better," means a lot to me.**

 **Anyway, thank you for being patient with me. What did you think of these tributes? We're half way through with the reapings which is pretty cool.**

 **Who do you like more out of these two? Is there anything I can do to improve?**

 **I know this is this account's** **first SYOT, so I shouldn't expect too much if terms of reaction, but ya know, I'm weird. Thank you to all that have read! I hope you're still enjoying.**


	9. I'm so sorry readers- not a cancellation

Hi people of the internet.

I know I haven't posted for a while and I really have no excuse other than the length I was trying to make my chapters wasn't something that I could sustain, and that left me with a hurdle too big to try whenever I thought about going back to it.

If I decided to start again, using these characters but writing reaping lengths I felt like I could do, would you still read?

I think I've said this before but I honestly have some huge ass confidence issues which is why I'm also scared to start this up again. I'm trying to get past that as it isn't fair to me or my readers to judge my stories worth on the quantity of feedback rather than the quality. If you are willing to continue reading, whether that's because you enjoy my writing or want to see your character, shoot me a PM or send me a review, just to let me know whether it's worth trying to go on.


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